Tree felling in Stamford Hill.

Tree felling in Stamford Hill.

It could only have happened in Stamford Hill. Shortly after lunch there was an event of such earth shattering significance that I'm truly amazed that the assembled forces of ITN, the BBC, Channels 4 and 5 and, quite possibly, Sky had just failed to pick up the story. It stood out like a sore thumb but nobody saw a thing. For the more perceptive observers it was just pure gold. But maybe I shouldn't have been watching anyway because it must have been deeply moving. In fact it must have been truly tragic and for those who cherish the natural world, desperately heartbreaking.

So to what do I refer on this merry Monday in May? In the heart of the Jewish community there are a whole parade of chasidim schools, bakeries, stationers and shops that sell everything from chopped herring, cholas(plaited bread) that sell by the hundred on Friday, delectable cakes and the new salad bar which looks too good to be true not forgetting a whole variety of food and drink shops. Grodzinski, that traditional favourite, is just a carnival of Jewish food that plays blissfully with your salivating palate.

But just around the corner from this gastronomic paradise, was one house that stood out from the rest. This morning it was just minding its own business and had no idea of the impending catastrophe that was about to befall it. It was hard to believe that the whole of the Jewish community had failed to turn out into force equipped with boxes of handkerchiefs barely able to hold back the floods of tears. You'd have needed the hardest of hearts not to be touched by the soul destroying intensity of it all. I glanced across the road and could have wept buckets but didn't think it warranted such emotion.

Ladies and gentlemen I saw a tree felling operation. Yes, tree surgeons with perhaps a considerable amount of experience behind them deemed it the right time to chop down a poor old humble tree. Now under any other circumstances this wouldn't have been regarded as anything other than just the ordinary removal of a tree that perhaps had seen better days. It didn't occur to me that there was anything wrong with the trees in Stamford Hill but somebody had obviously seen something wrong with the tree and felt they had no alternative but to just give it the final chop.

I was made aware of this sad old tree and noticed a hive of activity. Suddenly a group of men wearing hard hats and sharp saws began to drill and hack away at the said tree demolishing the remnants of a once thick trunk that must have seen some radical changes over the years. But here were the tree surgeons from the local council wading into this small corner of North London and administering the final heave ho.

It was difficult to see what was actually going on but all I could see were the scattered twigs and branches of a tree that must have really felt that maybe it couldn't take any more. So why should this most unfortunate event have so exercised my mind on this first day of the week? Why couldn't they wait until tomorrow or possibly Wednesday but that would have been delaying the agony so today seemed the right time and the right place. You can't beat a spot of tree felling on Monday in Stamford Hill. It's good for the body and soul. But then your heart is torn in half because this can't be happening and it is and oh no please leave it where it is.

This has set my mind to work. I'm not sure why but the trees in Stamford Hill, on closer inspection, do possess a rather distinctive character. It does seem that the trees in this leafy suburb remind you of  Parisian boulevards and avenues. These are very tall and commanding trees, trees of stature and status, trees with a certain bearing and standing. These are trees that have a very classical appearance, historic trees that deserve our respect. They should all be preserved by English Heritage and highly esteemed as some of the greatest trees that ever stood in Stamford Hill.

Now I may be allowing my imagination to run away with me but the trees in Stamford Hill are just the most magnificent sight. They tower over the whole of Stamford Hill, huge, hulking arboreal   giants brooding over this fair and green land of us, leaning over into a busy road and clustering together in an act of stubborn solidarity. Spring is well and truly upon us and the trees are now clothed in their most fitting and glowing costume of green. These are smart, disciplined trees that seem to huddle together at all times and always look rock steady firm.

For most of the summer they will stand tall, covering the whole of the Stamford Hill pavements like a vast canopy or a green umbrella that always seems in need of protection. But today broke my heart. How could they do cut down a tree on today of all days? There is now a gap in our lives, a yawning chasm that has to be filled because I may be in need of those hankies. It seems such a shame to give this tree, of all trees the big chop, tumbling and toppling into history without so much as a whimper.

How could they be so heartless? But it's only a tree. And yet this tree must have had feelings so your heart went out to the fallen tree.  On second thoughts it is just a tree but then again trees are a vital source of oxygen to the human race so this is a major setback to the existence of trees. Oh come on it's a tree and I'm sure it'll be replaced by an equally as attractive tree so there's no need to worry. I've got to be sensible about this one so it's time for acceptance and not over reacting.

Anyway it's time to look forward to the rest of the week. I can now live with the knowledge that this horticultural wonder will find a new lease of life. Stamford Hill can now rest easy because this is not the end of the world. Trees will always flourish and regenerate through the years so I've got to understand the temporary loss felt when trees have to be consigned to the history books.

And so Stamford Hill went back to its ordinary business of the day. May, so far, has been a bit wishy washy, neither here or there but it's still good to be alive because some of the world events around us are so intriguing and unbelievable that at times the weather seems irrelevant. It feels as though it should be much warmer and the weather forecast is much more promising for the rest of the week. There has to be a tropical heatwave brewing excitedly over the English channel. Surely.

The skies over head are still a milky shade, with plenty of heavy grey cloud. Yesterday I stepped outside to get a Sunday paper and it did admittedly feel more like November than May but hey let it rain. let it rain. let it rain. This is English weather and nothing should ever surprise us. This is the most temperate of all climates and maybe we should anticipate, pre-empt or second guess the weather in Britain. It's got variety, diversity and unexpectedness on its side. It's the craziest, most outrageous of any climate in any part of the world.

 We find it infuriating but then delightful when it gets too hot and then we wipe the sweat from our brows because somebody needs to switch on the fan for air conditioning. Where would we be without the English weather and tree surgeons in Stamford Hill? The world would be a much poorer place without their presence.